


Grip

by rudbeckia



Series: Random Worlds [39]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-03 22:56:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12757833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rudbeckia/pseuds/rudbeckia
Summary: The aftermath of Armitage's parents’ visit. Armitage is emotional and Ben tries not to push him into anything he might not want, and they try to make sense of their feelings within the boundaries of what it means to beflatmates.





	Grip

_Get a grip, Ben!_

He repeated this phrase to himself another two times while making chicken pasta salad without pesto because of the burned pine nuts that were _absolutely_ Mara... someone else’s fault. Ben decided he would never mention Armitage’s parents ever again unless Armitage brought it up. He remembered there was pancetta in the fridge and fried it to golden, crisp cubes, coating the chicken pieces in the rendered fat in the pan, ready to serve warm.

 _He’s going to get dressed, have lunch, ask you to help him put the rooms back the way they were and you’ll be just flatmates again. Back to normal. Fits with the rules._ A little part of Ben demanded to know _whose rules?_ but Ben ignored it.

Ben heard the gurgle of water draining and knocked on the bathroom door.  
“Babe? You okay? I brought a clean towel and stuff. Can I come in?”  
“Hand me the towel first,” said Armitage’s muffled voice. Ben opened the door just far enough to pass the clean bath-towel through the gap. It was pulled from his hand. A few seconds later the door opened and Armitage stood on the bathmat with wet, tousled hair and a towel tucked around his waist. Ben resisted the urge to smooth Armitage’s spikes, and held out a teeshirt and sweatpants.  
“I couldn’t find your clean PJs so I brought these. They’re clean.”  
Minutes later, Armitage paused at the kitchen door wearing an oversized shirt that hung from his shoulders and billowed around his middle, and sweatpants that he hitched up at regular intervals with the hand that wasn’t holding onto his crumpled clothing. Ben laughed at the sight. “Hungry?” he asked.  
“Yes,” replied Armitage, then went into the bedroom.

Armitage dumped his clothes into the hamper and swapped Ben’s sweatpants for his own. He raised the shirt over his head but breathed deep and pulled it back on. The lingering smell of something that was clean and also _Ben_ somehow distanced him from the events of the day. He checked his phone: it was late afternoon and there were several text messages that he did not want to read.  
“Hey, come and eat!” Ben’s voice sailed through from the living room. _Ben’s room_ Armitage reminded himself. He took his phone, walked to the room across the hallway and sat at Ben’s work table. There was a bowl of pasta with chicken and pancetta and a bagged salad. A lump of parmesan sat on a grater in the centre of the table. Ben walked in carrying a bottle of white wine and two proper glasses bought the day before in preparation for entertaining.  
“We may as well have all this,” said Ben as he sat opposite Armitage and smiled a little nervously. “I got Pinot Grigio. It’s a weird time of day to be eating and drinking but, hey.”

Armitage nodded and let Ben pour while he stared at the food. “I don’t feel like eating. It looks good. Sorry.”  
“I won’t be offended if you can’t eat,” said Ben. “But I will be offended if you don’t at least try the chicken. I _slaved_ over cooking it just right!”  
That made Armitage laugh. “You fucking liar!” he said. “I saw the packet in the fridge this morning. You bought ready made!”  
Ben grinned. “I had to slice it so that counts. Here.” He stabbed a piece of chicken, caught some smoky pancetta crumbs with it, and a pasta spiral. He held it out, hand under the fork to catch anything that gravity claimed.

Armitage regarded Ben’s face warily, but Ben only shrugged and smiled and sighed and pulled the fork back slightly. “Up to you.”

Armitage put his hand on Ben’s and guided the fork to his mouth, closing his lips around it and letting Ben pull the fork away slowly, never once breaking eye contact. Ben’s smile faltered, replaced by something else that Armitage hadn’t noticed there before, although perhaps he hadn’t been looking. Something serious, apprehensive even. Armitage closed his eyes, chewed and swallowed.  
“That’s so good,” he said, raising his fingers to his lips then lifting his wine glass and taking a sip. Ben speared another modest forkful and raised his eyebrow. Armitage nodded and Ben fed him slowly.  
“Want some parmesan on it?” asked Ben after the second mouthful.  
“I don’t know,” replied Armitage. “Is it nicer like that?”  
“I don’t know either,” admitted Ben with a laugh. “I just bought stuff I thought looked good.”  
“Well then,” said Armitage as Ben fed himself too. “Let’s not get too adventurous too quickly, hmm?”

Ben’s face fell and Armitage caught his hand. “I didn’t mean... I only meant I don’t want parmesan on my food.”  
“What else might you have meant?” asked Ben, fork laid on the table, hands withdrawn and clasped out of sight.  
“I—“ Armitage sighed and looked away. “I don’t know. I suppose... I suppose I _like_ this act. I like _you._ The _being together_ thing, I mean. But we’re flatmates and that makes it difficult, doesn’t it?” Armitage bit his lip and grimaced. “Or have I read this whole last twenty-four hours wrong?” Ben did not reply and Armitage filled in the silence with his own fears. “It’s okay, though. We can put the furniture back where it _should_ be and I’ll write this off as the inappropriate, overemotional rambling of someone who just realised how fucked up they are. Ah _shit_ , here I go again.”  
Armitage left the room and closed himself in the bedroom until his tears and shaking stopped, _my room,_ he corrected his thought, and wondered if Mitaka and Thanisson would lend him their sofa and some sympathy for the night. He reached for his phone, and groaned quietly when he realised it was still in Ben’s room.

The door creaked open slowly and Ben’s face peered around it. “Babe? Can I come in?”  
“Yeah,” said Armitage with a sigh. “Is this where you tell me you think I’m a nice guy but?”  
“But you’re my flatmate?” said Ben, sitting beside Armitage and taking his hand. “I thought about it. I’ve been thinking about it for a while.”  
“Thinking,” said Armitage in a flat voice, “about what.”  
“About how we could still be flatmates, but we could be flatmates who... do stuff.”  
“Stuff?” Armitage felt Ben squeeze his hand and his heart rate rose at the pressure. “What kind of stuff?”  
“Nothing new. We could call each other _babe_ and _sweetheart,_ and you like hugs and so do I so there’s that. And if you want we can kiss sometimes. In the kitchen, before— you know. I was all ready to say _hey what if we stop pretending that we’re NOT together?_ But... stuff happened.”

Armitage felt light headed, unreal. He looked at Ben’s earnest expression, eyes flicking over the features he had memorised so quickly and thought about so often over the past two weeks. Had it really been such a short time? He brushed long dark waves from Ben’s face and saw him lean in to the touch.  
“Can we be flatmates who do this?” asked Armitage, combing through Ben’s hair with both hands. Ben smiled and nodded.  
“What about this?” asked Ben in return, catching Armitage’s hand and kissing the inside of his wrist. Armitage nodded, feeling something ignite deep within him.  
“And this?” he asked, leaning in and kissing Ben softly on the forehead. Ben nodded, raised his head and kissed Armitage on the lips.  
“And that?” asked Ben, voice a barely audible whisper.  
“Yes.” Armitage swung himself over and straddled Ben’s lap, kissing him hard, only stopping when Ben’s hands found his arse. He laughed. “Can we be flatmates who—“  
“Fuck, yes.”

Ben lay back and pulled Armitage down to lie on top of him. Hands found their way under clothing to stroke and scratch skin underneath, and in under two minutes Ben was helpless with giggles. Armitage trailed his fingertips up Ben’s sides and across his stomach again, grinning at the way Ben’s hands grasped the bedcovers as he writhed. Ben’s jeans were unfastened already and Armitage hooked his fingers into the waistband, pulling them down to mid-thigh along with Ben’s boxers.  
“Well,” he said with a smirk as Ben grinned at him. “I seem to have found my appetite.”

 

A while later, lying naked under the covers and only aware he’d been asleep because it was dark out, Armitage stroked Ben’s face to wake him. Ben grumbled and caught Armitage’s hand and kissed his palm.  
“Do you think we should leave the rooms as they are for now?” asked Armitage quietly. “I mean, it’s nice having a living room.”  
“Mm,” said Ben. “We could get a proper TV.”  
Armitage yawned and sighed. “You know. ‘Tak’s made it his business to get me to tell you how I feel about you.”  
Ben scoffed. “Phasma too.”  
“How long do you think we could keep up the façade of _not_ being together, just to piss them off?” asked Armitage with a snigger.  
Ben laughed and rolled over. He planted a kiss on Armitage’s lips. “Babe, the way I feel around you, I think I could convince Phas for, oh, maybe ten seconds.”

Ben slipped out of bed, closed the curtain and left the room. Armitage heard the bathroom door close. He got up too and retrieved his phone. Three messages he deleted without opening. Two phone numbers he blocked. One message he replied to with a warm feeling inside.  
_I’m ok. Talk tomorrow._  
Ben wrapped his arms around Armitage from behind. Armitage leaned against him and said, “Just so I know, can we be flatmates who say _I love you_ sometimes?”  
Ben held Armitage tighter.  
“I love you too, babe.”

**Author's Note:**

> When Ben and Hux eventually break one of ther shoved-together single beds, thay will need to shop for a new bed. 
> 
> Go read [this delightful fic.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12231018)


End file.
